


it was love at second sight

by oddpen



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddpen/pseuds/oddpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheein takes a spoonful of the cake filling, the flavor of peach suddenly unmistakable.  </p>
<p>“I saw your performance,” Wheein says around her mouthful, “short hair does suit you best.”</p>
<p>Hwasa grins at her, leans closer, arms resting on her knees, “Wheein-ssi it’s so nice to finally meet you.”</p>
<p>Her gaze drops to Wheein’s wrist, covered in her sweater and bracelets, Wheein pulls back, tries not to look at the way Hwasa's skirt stretches over the fullness of her thighs.</p>
<p>Wheein doesn’t know what to say, her face feels hot, she knows she has a full blown blush spreading across her cheeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was love at second sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [wheenzino](http://hwasa.co.vu/) for the mamamoo holiday exchange! 
> 
> I'm sorry that it's so short and rushed but I hope you like it! I tried to make it about soulmates but it kind of got derailed a little and if this isn't what you wanted please tell me and I'll try to make it up for you. Ah, happy holidays I hope this is just the beginning of your gifts, please enjoy! (:

It’s been awhile since Wheein has been home.  The bed is not as soft or as luxurious as the ones in the hotel, but she finds comfort in it, the way it smells like the soap her mom used to use when she was younger.  

The ceiling is peeling, brown spots forming from the heavy rains that have hit while she was gone.  The splatter of the raindrops are comforting, lulling her to the edge of sleep, tittering between consciousness and blissful rest.

Fashion week is always hell.

Wheein barely sleeps, is up from 4 am, running on energy drinks and coffee cocktails.  She’s done up so many models, so many pretty faces, they become a blur, all just a whirlwind of eye shadows, lip stains, blush.  

The warmness that rages in her belly has become pretty constant, so many beautiful girls, Wheein can’t help but fall in love with all of them, catches herself daydreaming about them as she watches them go down the runway, their faces bright, standing tall, graceful beyond belief.  

She snorts, rolls over, eyes landing on the window, the way raindrops break against the glass of it.  She hugs her pillow tighter, presses it against her chest.  

There’s an odd feeling coiling in her chest, a pang of emptiness that she tries to push down, tries to escape but always surfaces at the worst times.

-

Yongsun calls her the next day, voice cheery, _Wheein!_ she greets brightly, _are you home?_

Wheein grunts, looks at the time on her phone, almost one in the afternoon.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “last runway was yesterday.”

_Ah_ , Yongsun says, giggles.  

Wheein rolls her eyes, knows Byulyi is probably taking away her attention, trying to get Yongsun to look at her.

_Are you going to work today?_ Yongsun asks through her giggles, _I need a favor._

Wheein sits up, pushes her hair out of her face, grimaces when her fingers catch at some unruly knots.

“I won’t go to the salon until tomorrow,” Wheein says slowly, “what kind of favor?”

She can hear Byulyi say something, her voice muffled, but Yongsun still laughs, loud and bright.

_There’s a new singer debuting from my company_ , Yongsun finally says, _she won’t debut for a while but I was wondering if you would like to do her consultation_ , Yongsun pauses, _you know our company favors you._

Wheein kicks off the covers, looks for her slippers, gives up, walks barefoot to the kitchen, “I can do that,” she hums, “how do I talk to her?”

Wheein sets a pot of water to boil, writes down the number Yongsun gives her on a stack of sticky notes, “Ok, I’ll call her after I finish breakfast.”

_It’s one in the afternoon_ , Wheein, Yongsun sounds stern.

“I got home pretty late,” Wheein says in defense.

Yongsun sighs, _Just take care of yourself, ok?_

Wheein stirs in honey to her tea as she hangs up, smiles sadly when she remembers how Yongsun had looked at her when they first met.  Wheein smiling at her reassuringly as she tested out hair colors on her, wondering how she was meant to fix someone so beautiful.  

She had fallen in love, had looked at her sparkling eyes, her long hair and had been smitten beyond comprehension.

That hadn’t gone far, Wheein takes a sip, she had met Byulyi the same year, a new model with a pretty impressive track record, girls fawning at her from all sides, breaking hearts and so charming she already had a large following of fangirls.

Yongsun had snorted at her, from where she was sitting at Wheein’s makeshift vanity, watching from the mirror as Wheein had applied blush pink gloss on Byulyi’s lips.

She remembers her heart had stopped when she had gotten close, eyes catching at the curve of her bottom lip, the quirk of it as she announced herself as Korea’s one and only girl crush.

Yongsun had laughed but Wheein had seen it, as Byulyi had whispered quietly, a far cry from her boasting, “can you make sure to cover this?” she had said, “I’m not wearing any pieces with sleeves.”

Wheein had read the writing quickly, printed neatly on her wrist, the tattoo of her soulmate, _Kim Yongsun_.

She puts her cup down, takes up her phone and pushes in the numbers on the sticky note, listening to the ringing before someone picks up, breathy and soft.

_Hello_ , she says, _who is this?_

Wheein lets the voice sink in, clear her throat, “Jung Wheein, I’m calling about your future idol makeover.”

There’s a bout of silence, stretching awkward, Wheein fidgets, unsure.

_I’m not going to be an idol_ , the voice goes a little sharp, _I’m not pretty enough for an idol image._

Wheein laughs, leans on the table, phone pressed to her ear, “After I’m done with you, you’ll be pretty enough for anything.”

The girl on the other line introduces herself as Hwasa, she drawls off her style and preferences.  Red lipsticks, sharp eyebrows, short hair, sporty wear.  Wheein writes this all down, comes up with an image of a girl that is not as beautiful as the other girls she’s worked with but Wheein gets paid to do this, to turn anything, anyone, beautiful.

Wheein thinks the only attractive thing about Hwasa is her voice, sultry and sweet.  Wheein decides not to think about it too much, as Hwasa sends her a quick thank you text.  

-

When she steps into the salon Byulyi is waiting for her, hair done in effortless waves, makeup simple and radiant.

“Wheein,” she says with a smile, “we were driving by here and I told the director that I _absolutely_ had to get my makeup done by you.”

Wheein makes eye contact with Byulyi’s manager, bows her head at his look of frustration.

“Moonbyul,” Wheein shakes her head, “such a diva.”

“I wanted to see you,” Byulyi sits down at Wheein’s station, “besides you always get my makeup right.”

Wheein is looking at the color palettes, the concept board of the photoshoot when her phone buzzes in her pocket.

She ignores it in favor of gathering Byulyi’s hair in a high ponytail.

“Is that Yongsun’s friend?” Byulyi asks, “the new singer or whatever?”

“Probably,” Wheein shrugs, “she doesn’t really sound like an easy job.”

Byulyi snorts, pulling a face, “you haven’t seen her,” she says, “trust me.”

Wheein raises an eyebrow, “stop moving and let me do your hair.”

-

Hwasa calls her when she starts to walk home.  Her day had been full of regulars coming for their haircuts, crowding to her now that she was back.

“Yeah?” she answers, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

_The company wants me to do long hair_ , Hwasa says, _do you think I should?_

Wheein stops walking, watches the way people pass by her, go into the shops, “if you think you look better with short hair then get short hair.”

There’s rustling, _That’s what I thought, thanks Wheein-ssi._

The awkward silence feels too heavy, Wheein opens her mouth, closes it, “so when are you debuting?”

It must have sounded too strained, it takes a while for Hwasa to answer, _In a month, Wheein-ssi._

-

Hwasa texts her almost daily, mostly good mornings and encouragements.  Wheein doesn’t have much time to answer her.  Byulyi keeps asking for her, pulling her along to her photoshoots, her commercial filmings, her red carpet events.  

_Good morning Wheein-ssi_

_Have a good day!_

_Listening to your voice calms me down, thats not weird right?_

She sends back quick replies, questions about the debuting process, kind advice.  Her phone rings as she watches Byulyi walk down another runway, she steps away, towards the craft services, “hello,” she says.

_Wheein-ssi_ , Hwasa says, _I just wanted to make sure that you’d watch my debut tomorrow._

Wheein smiles, “of course, just tell me which channel.”

Wheein listens to the other girl talk, she’s rattling on about preparations, the song she’s releasing, the way they let her keep her short hair.

Wheein listens to it all, offers little input, sounds of acknowledgement.

She’s grown a soft spot for the other girl, looking forward to her short but appreciated texts.  

Byulyi drags her to the after party but her mind gets away from her, fingers curling to the bracelets around her wrist.

-

She tries not to think so much about it.  

The cold winds whistling through her walls, running a shiver down her spine.  The quietness of her home broken with her sighs, the radio cackling morning news, new idol songs.

The shower is scalding hot, the steam peeling off the yellowing wallpaper.  Wheein scrubs against her wrist, eyelashes catching the water overhead, beading and dropping heavily.  

“Ah,” she says, looking at the way red rises to the thin skin of her wrist, the way the black ink refuses to leave, “Ahn Hyejin when will you leave?”

The long sleeves she wears can only cover from prying eyes. Wheein breathes easy when the cold weather allows for the extra layers and lengths. But she gets glimpses of it. When she wakes up, all alone, and the only thing she can see is _Ahn Hyejin_.

She’s had it for such a long time, years of covering it up with makeup, long sleeves, bracelets.  It’s almost enough to make her forget about her.

Wheein spends the day cleaning up, waiting for the time Hwasa told her she was going to perform.  She turns her television on to the start of the program, catches her name but no trailer, no teaser for her performance.

She’s washing the dishes when she hears the MCs bring up Hwasa again, introducing her song.

_My Heart_.

There’s a ringtone, a lady talking in English.  Wheein watches as Hwasa shows up on her screen, wearing a wide brim hat, fishnets, sleek high heels.

She can’t stop staring, the way her red mouth raps, voice teasing, stretching over the syllables.  The fullness of her thighs under her blazer.  The veil of her hat covers her face.  Her heart is racing, her eyes unsure on what to settle on.  Her rap is powerful, assertive, her body language is confident and it catches Wheein off guard.

Wheein’s breath stops when they cut the beat, the screen fading into a new stage, Hwasa’s voice speaking, another beat playing.

She’s _gorgeous_ , Wheein’s eyes widen, Hwasa’s short hair parted in the middle, in waves, her mouth a bright red.  The shorts she wears are tight, forming over the curve of her hips, snug around her thighs.  She catches the line of her collarbone under her striped shirt, the softness of her skin.

She’s singing too, alternating between rap and vocals, Wheein is having a hard time wrapping her head around Hwasa.

It’s not long before the stage is over that Hwasa calls her, out of breath, voice thin.

_Did you watch Wheein-ssi? Did you like it?_

Wheein doesn’t know what to say, chokes out a quiet, “yeah.”

-

Yongsun wants to see her, she calls her over to the company and Wheein makes the drive.  Yongsun is recording, but Wheein realizes something is up when there’s a cake on the table.

“What are these for?” she asks as she picks up the candles.

“They’re for Hwasa,” Yongsun smiles, “to celebrate her debut.”

That’s all she gets before there’s people cramming into the room, all the artist from their company, singer, rappers, trainees.

Wheein gets pushed to the back of the room, breathing in the hot air.

There’s a hush that falls when the doorknob starts to turn, Byulyi’s loud laugh, Wheein curls her hands into fists, the clear sound of Hwasa’s voice, no static distorting it.

“Unnie,” Hwasa says, “I’ve already recorded for today.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Byulyi sing songs.

Wheein isn’t ready when the room breaks into singing, catching a glimpse of Hwasa’s face, free of makeup, lips still pink.

The noise muddles together, a buzzing against her ear as her eyes catch Hwasa’s, the way her cheeks flush a little, tainting the golden skin of her cheek.

Yongsun shoves the cake under Hwasa’s nose, urges her to blow the candles.  

People start to trail out after that, going up to Hwasa, offering her encouragement and congratulations, smiling wide.

Wheein stays in the corner, trying her best not to look, eyes focused on her cake, trying to figure out the filling.

She still looks up, catches glimpses of Hwasa talking to Byulyi, smiling when someone new approaches her.

She sighs, finding an empty chair, rolling it close to the wall.

Wheein’s dissecting the rest of her cake, pushing off the icing to the side.

“The filling is peach jam, Wheein-ssi,” Hwasa pulls a chair to her, knees bumping together before she pushes away, “I’m happy you’re here.  It’s nice putting a face to your voice.”

Wheein takes a spoonful of the cake filling, the flavor of peach suddenly unmistakable.  

“I saw your performance,” Wheein says around her mouthful, “short hair does suit you best.”

Hwasa grins at her, leans closer, arms resting on her knees, “Wheein-ssi it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Her gaze drops to Wheein’s wrist, covered in her sweater and bracelets, Wheein pulls back, tries not to look at the way Hwasa's skirt stretches over the fullness of her thighs.

Wheein doesn’t know what to say, her face feels hot, she knows she has a full blown blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Do you want to go out for some coffee?” Hwasa’s smile never falters, “to thank you for listening to me.”

-

Yongsun looks at her, eyes narrowed, “you are going right?” she asks, watching as Wheein ties her hair up, hair messy.

“To what?” she asks, avoids eye contact.

“Hwasa has been talking about this day nonstop,” Yongsun puts her hands to her hips, “all she has been talking about is you for ages.”

Wheein flops on her bed, stretches her arms out, she can feel the way Yongsun’s eyes land on her wrist, over _Ahn Hyejin_.

“Just go, please,” Yongsun’s voice goes softer, “just to shut her up.”

-

Hwasa is smiling by the time she rounds the corner, sitting outside, stirring her drink.  Wheein tries to smile back, waves back when Hwasa waves at her, a small shy movement.

“Hi,” Hwasa says, getting up, her sweater falls a little, drooping over her shoulder, exposing the golden swell of it.

“Hey,” Wheein smiles awkwardly, motions for Hwasa to sit.

It’s quiet for a while, the cars passing by the only noise, streets empty, people at work.

Wheein orders some tea, some sweet bread to go with it.  Hwasa watches her, eyes soft, warm.

“Wheein-ssi,” Hwasa says, “thanks for coming.”

Wheein ducks her head, “ah all you say is thank you,” she mumbles, “I’m not something to be so grateful about.”

Hwasa laughs, leaning closer, the knit of her sweater looks warm, “I’m grateful because you listened to me,” her eyes curve with her smile, “and because you’re cute.”

Wheein blinks at her, pressing her hand to her cheek.

“I knew the moment you said your name that you would be the best thing to happen to me.”

-

There’s a feeling in Wheein’s chest, a low burn that feels unpleasant, like an itch she can’t scratch, something that won’t leave her alone.

Wheein feels overly exposed, absentmindedly setting her station up, Byulyi waiting for her at her chair.  

She can see Hwasa from across the room, getting her microphone hooked up, smiling at the lady fussing over her hair.

This runway is full of children, girls and boys who have an interest in the industry.  Byulyi is walking down the runway with a girl, dressed up in a red satin dress, waiting patiently to get her makeup done by Wheein.

Wheein sees the way Yongsun settles next to Hwasa, the way they get closer, start talking in quiet tones.

Byulyi pulls at her sleeve, “Wheein hurry up,” she hisses, “it’s almost starting you know.”

-

Hwasa and Yongsun’s voices are big, warm and soft, lulling the guests into a peaceful atmosphere.  The lights are dimmed but Wheein can still see the sparkle in Hwasa’s eyes, the shine of her lip gloss.

She stays behind the runway, watching Byulyi walk with her little girl, the other models going down in different holiday get up.

It doesn’t take long before the atmosphere breaks, Yongsun and Hwasa singing jazzy renditions of holiday favorites, kids running around between the adults.

Byulyi’s little kid hangs on to her, talking animatedly, flapping her arms around.  Wheein can see the way her nose scrunches up with laughter.

She small talks her way to the small garden, decorated in soft pink fairy lights.  

Wheein walks slowly, takes pictures of the lights strung up in the trees, the pond that reflects them.  She can hear the piano from inside, the sound of Yongsun’s voice.

“Why did you leave,” Hwasa asks, touches Wheein’s elbow, makes her turn around.

“Hwasa,” she says, mind blank for some reason, “shouldn’t you be singing?”

Hwasa laughs, “Moonbyul decided she wanted to sing with Yongsun,” she takes a step back, drops her hand, “she says she’s going to drop some sick bars to Yongsun unnie’s singing.”

Hwasa’s wearing a red dress, cutouts and all.  Wheein catches the glint of her golden cuff, eyes flickering to the neat print on her wrist.

_Jung Wheein_.

She feels her heart stop, the way her skin breaks in goosebumps, the rising of heat, curling down her wrist to her fingertips.

Hwasa is looking at the pond, watching the way the fish break the surface into ripples.

“ _Ahn Hyejin_ ,” Wheein says, breathless, caught at her throat.

Hyejin turns to look at her, eyes wide, hands going to push her golden cuff down, covering Wheein’s name.

“Wheein-ssi,” she says, hands going up,  but her words die off, Wheein stepping closer.

There’s nothing to say, Wheein can’t think of anything to say as Hyejin’s hand reaches for hers, pushes her sweater up, uncovers her name on Wheein’s wrist.

The music inside has gotten softer, Yongsun’s rendition of Silent Night slow and soulful.

“I knew you were the best thing to happen to me,” Hyejin says, “as soon as I heard your voice.”

Wheein can feel the pressure of tears building behind her eyes, she blinks, tries to keep them from falling.

There’s a press of lips to her cheek, the sticky residue of lip gloss.

“I’m Ahn Hyejin,” Hyejin introduces herself, “and you’re Jung Wheein.”

With their hands laced together, the lights in the trees, with the violins as their soundtrack, Wheein says,

“Nice to meet you.”


End file.
